Bloodlines
by tanks
Summary: Stonehenge is destroyed in one of the biggest atrocities of the century and while her co-workers are off investigating, Junior Archeologist for the Ministry of Magic, Ginny is stuck out in Glastonbury, digging in the rain and dodging Muggle tourists.
1. A Retching Sigh

Bloodlines, by Tanks.  
Chapter 1: A Retching Sigh 

Walking down the cold, hardwood steps of the staircase, Ginny wrapped the robe around her tightly promising herself to win the Witch's Weekly Lottery and move to Cairo. Ginny sat down at the small bistro table, holding her tea with two hands in a feeble attempt to warm them. Across from her, sat Oliver Wood: world famous Quidditch player, Gryffindor, and Ginny's object of affection. As usual, his face was blocked by the Daily Prophet as he scanned through the sports section but something caught Ginny's eye. On the front page, a picture of her favorite piece of architecture, the Stonehenge, was on display and the word "destroyed" caught her eye. In astonishment, Ginny snatched the paper out of her husband's hands, anxiously scanning the front page.   
  
Ginny read over the article, occasionally reading bits of it out loud to a bemused Oliver, who Ginny later suspected only listened for her benefit- his attention span was comparable to a tomato unless a snitch was mentioned. There was little concrete information to be had; no suspects and no reason for the destruction of a world wonder, just a few hastily strung together Muggle theories and a promise to keep the prophet readers updated on this terrible event. Ginny put the paper down and looked out the window, eyes glazed in thought.   
  
"Earth to Ginny, come in Ginny?" Ginny looked up at Oliver, surprised to hear his voice. "You've been staring out the window for five minutes, now. What's on your mind?"   
  
"It's this article on Stonehenge; somebody's smashed all the stones in the outer circle."   
  
"The paper said some Muggle cult might have done it."  
  
Ginny huffed, "They were all destroyed at the exact same time. That's a physical impossibility unless you're armed with a wand. Whoever is behind it is definitely a wizard."  
  
There was a short pause as Oliver looked down at his cup of tea, "So I suppose that changes our vacation plans..." Oliver said trying to cover up his enthusiasm. He adored his wife, but her obsession with a load of rocks had always made him wonder.  
  
"This isn't funny, Oliver. Stonehenge dates back centuries. It's probably the greatest wonder of the world, and now, look, it's destroyed," Ginny responded, shoving the front page of the paper in his direction.  
  
Oliver tried to muster up an interest in the picture but could not. Already his mind was making new vacation plans, plans that involved watching the Quidditch World Cup in Luxembourg.  
  
"Argh," Oliver sighed, getting up and walking over to Ginny. "I need to get to work. We got a new one on the team. Creevy is his name, says he knew you from school."   
  
Ginny nodded absently, still lost in thought, as he kissed her on her forehead and Apparated with a pop. Realizing that close to nothing was going to be accomplished from the kitchen, Ginny got up and dressed herself, preparing to make her appearance at the Archeology Department in the Ministry of Magic.  
  
Ginny was a Junior Archeologist with the Ministry. She enjoyed her job - when she was allowed to do it. Lately she spent more time running errands for her boss, Adrian Pucey, than she did working on site. When she was allowed to work, it was only the most basic of the jobs available. Ginny was only a Junior, so logically, she would not get to work on the bigger, more important (and exciting) jobs, but it hadn't always been that way.   
  
Her former boss, Fobellis Blunder, had taken her under his wing and allowed her to work alongside him, honing her archeology skills. Unfortunately, Fobellis had died recently in a terrible accident involving a rather large chunk of rock, and his replacement was not as kind. Her love of all things Archeology (or as Oliver put it, with piles of stones) kept her working, despite this. She wouldn't be a Junior forever and she looked forward to the day when she would be in charge of her own sites and make her own discoveries.  
  
Upon entering her usually calm office, Ginny found it filled with middle-aged witches and wizards complaining about their new boss as they took their twenty-third coffee break before noon. But Ginny knew something was up when everyone in the office was acting like they had taken more than their fair share of Pepper-Up Potion. She approached one of her more friendly co-workers for a heads-up.   
  
"Ginny! I was wondering when you'd get here. Tell me, what do you think of all this Stonehenge business? Fantastic that we're being allowed to investigate, don't you think?" Cenwig Tunwulf said to Ginny excitedly. Cenwig, a middle-aged wizard with a dress style rivaling that of Gilderoy Lockhart, was the office gossip and existed in a perpetual state of giddiness. "Do you think Pucey will let us get our hands on anything?"   
  
"I only know what I read about in this mornings Prophet," said Ginny, wishing Cenwig had skipped the last ten cups of coffee. "And I don't know about you, but I'll be lucky if I'm allowed to carry Pucey's tool box."   
  
Cenwig and Ginny shared a laugh. Adrian's treatment of Ginny did not go unnoticed amongst her co-workers. None of them were treated with the respect they deserved, but for some unknown reason, he treated Ginny worse. Office opinion was that Pucey never forgave her for turning him down for a date within his first few hours on the job. Ginny thought he might have some Slytherin tendencies left over from Hogwarts and he was taking them out on her, the nearest Gryffindor.   
  
"Who do you think did it?" asked Cenwig.  
  
"I'm not sure," answered Ginny. "I guess we won't know 'til we get a look at it. I'll tell you one thing, though, it definitely wasn't that Muggle cult they talked about in the Prophet. The only way all those stones were knocked down like that was with magic."   
  
"Who died and made you the expert around here, Weasley?" said a snotty, sneering voice belonging to Adrian Pucey.   
  
Cenwig rolled his eyes; the rest of the office went quiet. Ginny struggled not to let her true feelings show on her face and bid Pucey a some-what cordial 'good morning.' Pucey ignored her and continued speaking, this time to the entire office, in the same, snooty tones.   
  
"As you all know, the Ministry would like us to investigate the damage done at Stonehenge last night. As Miss Weasley has so kindly pointed out to us, responsibility lies not, as the Daily Prophet suggests, in the hands of a Muggle cult, but instead with a group of wizards. It is our job today to discover as much as possible about what went on while leading the Muggles on the scene to believe that we are just another group of archeologists, concerned only with the restoration of this world wonder.   
  
"Tunwulf, DeWay, Bowie, you will be working with me at the Main Site. Bridgewick, Manthium, you will be co-coordinating our efforts with the Muggle teams. Coincidentally, you will also be in charge of bringing me coffee. Four words for you: black with two sugars."  
  
Ginny mentally ticked off the names of her co-workers. Tunwulf, DeWay, Bowie would be in on the main dig, lucky buggers. Bridgewick and Manthium were obviously being punished for something and had been relegated to coffee duty. The only other member of the Archeology Department in the Ministry of Magic was...  
  
"And that leaves you, Weasley. You will not be apart of this excavation, instead, you are to go to Glastonbury and complete a dig started by that dunderhead Blunder last month. I took the liberty of placing the necessary files on your desk, you have three days to complete the dig and I expect your report on my desk no later then Friday at 9am. Are we clear?"   
  
Even if she wasn't 100% clear, Ginny would not have been able to ask him a question. Pucey spun around and marched right back out of the office. There was a collective sigh of relief as the door closed behind him on his way out and the tension level in the room dropped visibly. Everyone mumbled their condolences to Bridgewick, Manthium and even Ginny, for missing out on what was sure to be the chance of a lifetime.   
  
This would be the first time archeologists – wizard or Muggle - would have the opportunity to explore underneath Stonehenge. Until now, such a task was impossible without disturbing the 26-ton sarsen stones arranged on the surface. Legend had it that King Arthur was buried under Stonehenge and to be in on such an excavation… Ginny sighed and a wave of envy washed over her but it only lasted for a moment. Wasn't it just this morning that she was wishing to be in charge of her own dig? To make her own discoveries? Opportunity had just knocked and she'd be foolish not to make the most of this chance.

Tanks says: The Chapter Title is an Anagram. If you can unscramble it, you'll have a hint for the next chapter:) 


	2. The Physics of Unadoring Nags

Bloodlines, by Tanks.  
Chapter 2: The Physics of Unadoring Nags

  
Peter Pettigrew scrambled across the lawn towards the Apparition point on the grounds of Malfoy Manner. It was raining and the grass had turned into a marshy quagmire, almost impossible to walk through. He was on his way to meet a young Death Eater and escort him to Lord Voldemort personally. Peter arrived at the appointed place in time to hear a sharp popping noise and witness the appearance of their latest guest. He was a young, conservative looking fellow with burgundy-framed glasses perched on his rather long nose.   
  
Years of experience in his current position told Peter that this new recruit wouldn't last long in the presence of his Dark Lord, but he kept that information to himself. Peter's rat-like nose started to twitch, he could smell the fear radiating off the young man. Whoever he was, he had something the Dark Lord wanted very much.   
  
"Hurry it up," Peter barked at the now quivering Death Eater. "It doesn't pay to keep Lord Voldemort waiting." He turned and walked back in the direction of Malfoy Manner.   
  
The man struggled to keep up with him, slipping and sliding in the muddy grass and finally Peter resorted to grabbing him by the arm and Apparating directly into the dungeons of Malfoy Manner. Only Voldemorts most trusted disciples were allowed to do so, had anyone else attempted such a thing, they would have been incinerated instantly.   
  
"Bring him to me," whispered a sinister voice through he darkness. "I have been waiting."   
  
Peter dragged the rather reluctant Death Eater towards a dais in the room. Seated on the dais, in a high-backed, wooden chair was Lord Voldemort.   
  
There was no preamble, no casual hellos, no inquiries as to well being. "Where is my scroll?"   
  
"I..uh…um..well..I…" the young man could barely speak.   
  
"WHERE IS MY SCROLL?"   
  
The Death Eater prostrated himself on the stone floor before the dais. "I'm sorry, master, I tried to find it but …"   
  
"Silence fool!" Voldemorts voice echoed through out the dungeons then, "Crucio!"   
  
The Death Eater was silent, his mouth gaping in a rictus of pain.   
  
"Finite Incantatum!" hissed Voldemort, followed closely by, "Imperio!"   
  
Voldemort crooked his finger and the Death Eaters chin rose from the ground as if pulled by a puppet string. Under the Imperio Curse, he was forced to look directly into Voldemorts eyes, and the skilled Legilimens used his powers to extract the information he needed, minus the fumbling excuses, from the cursed man. When he was done, he waved his hand and the man's head slammed into the stone floor, smashing his glasses into his eyes.   
  
Voldemorts red eyes burned with anger. "He doesn't have it!"   
  
Peter knelt in front of his lord, trying hard not to cower. "Perhaps if I knew what you were looking for, master, I could get it for you."   
  
Voldemort said nothing. Only a select few knew what Voldemort was looking for and Pettigrew was not among that elite group.   


*  
Ginny arrived, Apparating with a pop underneath the shade of one of the hundreds of trees, careful not to draw attention to herself. She readjusted her canvas, overstuffed backpack and looked at her surroundings. Guarding her eyes from the bright sun peering over the Glastonbury Tor as it rose enigmatically above the flat Summerland meadows. Ginny had visited the Glastonbury Tor before, as it is said to be a part of the remains of a great three-dimensional neolithic labyrinth, a ceremonial way dedicated to an ancient British Goddess. As Ginny hiked up the hill, she noticed the strange system of terracing. Much weathered and eroded, but still well defined, it has been interpreted as a maze following an ancient magical pattern. If the maze on the Tor is real, human labour formed it four or five thousand years ago, during the period of the vast ritual works that created Stonehenge.   
  
At the top of the Tor, Ginny looked down to the west and saw the excavation site blocked off with the typical yellow tape attached to wooden posts. Ginny climbed down and set down her backpack and toolbox. She sighed realizing that her wish had come true. Yes, she was finally the head of her own dig but it was only a team of one, her.   
  
As the sun hit her back, tantalizing her pale skin visible by what her dark green tank failed to cover; Ginny continued chucking away at the hard stone for most of the day, breaking it down into small rocks and dirt that she would shovel out of the pit in one swift arm movement. 

Tourists, visiting the outskirts of the Glastonbury Abbey, a large church covering some 36 acres, had wandered over to Ginny's dig. Although most took a quick look and asked ridiculous questions, or in one case, whistled at the site of her dirt covered bum, a couple sat down on their picnic blanket and shared a bottle of pop as they watched, almost as if she were a part of the tourist exhibit. Shortly after, other people, families and individuals began to do the same, much to Ginny's dismay. Technically, she had no right to kick them out since they weren't interfering, but that didn't stop Ginny's imagination from running amuck and picturing how fun it would be to scoop a bucket of dirt directly onto the perfectly manicured woman in the pink cardigan.  
  
"Oh look Maxwell, she actually has the potential to be quite pretty if she wasn't so busy playing in the sandbox." The above-mentioned pink cardigan-wearing woman said cooingly.  
  
Ginny stopped mid-dig and stood up so her head was barely poking out of the enormous hole in the ground. "Listen lady, you can take your cute little nails and-"  
  
"Ginny!" a young voice interrupted. Suddenly, Cenwig was jumping into the pit, placing his two hands on her shoulders. "Ten deep breaths," he whispered. Ginny managed a smile.  
  
"What are you doing here?"  
  
"Pucey is having his personal photo shoot with the Daily Prophet and I decided I might just hop over here and have lunch with my favorite little dirt digger."  
  
"Where's the food?" Ginny asked hungrily.  
  
Cenwig lowered his voice, "Do you honestly think I was going to lug a picnic basket over here? That's what I keep this little beauty around for." He said with a grin, patting at the wand pocket on his waist.   
  
"What about them?" Ginny asked, gesturing towards her Muggle audience.  
  
Cenwig's grin broadened as he turned on his heel and peeked over the edge.  
"Oh my god! It's Cher!" he screamed, pointing in the distance. Like magic, everyone ran in the pointed direction as quickly as possible.  
  
Ginny laughed and sat down on a hump of dirt resembling a bench in the dig. "Who's Cher?"   
  
"She's some Muggle woman. As long as she gets face lifts on the daily basis and continues crying into a microphone, people love her."  
  
Ginny smiled, "And how do you know about this?"  
  
"You forget, I'm Muggle born."  
  
Ginny nodded. "Right, so how 'bout that lunch?"  
  
Cenwig looked around quickly, making sure no one was around and pulled his wand out of his pocket along with a small basket, like something Cenwig had snatched from a dollhouse. He placed it down on the ground and muttered a little Latin. In an instant, it blew up into a life-sized basket. 

Ginny got to her knees and opened it anxiously to find two glasses, a nice bottle of wine, and two hearty sandwiches.

The red head sighed, "If I wasn't married…"

"I'd be after your husband," Cenwig laughed.

Ginny began biting down on the sandwich hungrily. 

"So have you found yourself anything in this pit?"

"Not much, actually. I think everything within a mile of here has already been excavated, and for some reason, this one was looked over. I just wonder why Blunder was so interested in it."

"Doesn't look like much," Cenwig said in between sips of wine. "Wonder why Pucey the Prick would have you working here?" 

"Probably just to spite me, I'm sure." 

"Well, maybe you'll make the find of the Century here, just to spite him!" 

Ginny topped off their glasses of wine, "I'll toast to that!"

"To Ginny Wood," began Cenwig, "may this days discoveries bring her fame and fortune!" 

Ginny giggled at Cenwig's toast, "To Cenwig Tunwulf, may his evening discoveries bring him fame and fortune!" 

"Or at least a good shag!"  


**  
Tanks says: Last chapters anagram? A Retching Sigh = A Cher Sighting!   
Feel free to email us if you think you've figured out the new one. 


	3. Love Is Dire

Bloodlines, by Tanks.  
Chapter 3: Love Is Dire 

Ginny spent an enjoyable hour with Cenwig. Only one member of her audience returned, Maxwell, the pink-cardigan lady's companion. He was searching the grass for some forgotten item. Maxwell said nothing to her, though the glare he shot her way spoke volumes. Ginny guessed he was upset about the false Cher sighting. 

The sun was nestled on the horizon when Ginny finally packed it in for the day. She had worked at a fierce pace all day with nothing to show for her efforts but a few broken pieces of mirror and a sunburn. She tried not to dwell on what Pucey would say to her when she returned to the office empty handed. Instead, she pondered why Fobellis would be excavating here but could come up with no plausible reason. 

She returned to the office, leaving a report written on parchment on Pucey's desk and went home to Oliver. 

"I can't, for the life of me figure out why Pucey has me excavating at that bloody site!" she complained to her husband that evening.

Oliver was standing behind her, massaging her aching shoulders and neck. He sometimes had a hard time being sympathetic about her work. In his mind, Ginny had chosen a career of backbreaking labour and therefore shouldn't complain about it, but when it came to Pucey, Oliver had a personal grudge. 

"He was a slimy git when we played Quidditch back at Hogwarts, and he's a slimy git now that he's your boss. Don't worry, love, you'll find something really important at this torry place and then you can rub it in his face." 

The next morning, Ginny returned to the Archeology Department with bagel and cappuccino in hand. Leaning against her desk, a particularly snobby looking Pucey was admiring his nails.

"You're late," he said coldly without looking up.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "I'm less than two minutes late, the lady in front of the Department of Unimportant Findings kept droning on about something…"

"Never taking responsibility for ourselves, I see."

Ginny looked on at him in shock. Why was he attempting to embarrass her in front of the entire office? Besides, it wasn't like she had seen him lift a tool before noon until Stonehenge was destroyed. He looked up at her with his squinted eyes, daring her to say something. Ginny refused, she wasn't going to sink to his level. 

Seeing no buttons were going to be pushed with only a little attitude, Pucey pulled a clear bag from behind him and pretended to admire the contents. "Ginny, I believe you left this on my desk. I see some broken mirror, a rusty bobby pin, oooh," he faked excitement, "is that a beer cap I see? It is! 'Morocco Ale'…how exotic." 

Unfortunately, Pucey's act managed a stifled laugh from DeWay and Bowie- the two most relentless arse kissers the Ministry had ever seen. Ginny shot them a glare only comparable to the ones her mother gave while growing up. 

Pucey stood up and walked to his office with a grin on his face. Ginny didn't know what had caused the particularly nasty show, but she Apparated to her dig quickly to avoid anyone seeing her with tears in the corner of her eyes. Disappointed in her inability to stand up for herself, Ginny threw her backpack on the ground and began to take out her anger on the ground with an axe. Why did she always have to be the good girl? Crack. Why couldn't she tell Pucey to go Hades and take DeWay and Bowie with him? Crack. Why did he constantly make sure Ginny was the arse of every joke? Crack. That- Crack. Arrogant- Crack. Good For Nothing- Crack. Bastard- Craaaack. 

Ginny looked down to find that she had hit her axe against a thick metal. She traded the axe in for a smaller hand shovel and began to carefully remove the dirt from the area. She wanted desperately to use magic to remove whatever it was from the ground, especially since it started raining, but couldn't because of the high number of Muggle tourists in the area. She wasn't a Senior archeologist and thus didn't have the clearance to use charms and spells to repel Muggles or conceal her site. 

One wet and muddy hour of digging had yielded a large, metal box that Ginny was starting to suspect was some sort of coffin. She used a magic measuring tape similar to the one used in Ollivanders wand shop to calculate its dimensions while she scouted the area for tourists. 

Ginny climbed out of the trench she was in and pushed a lock of wet hair out of her face. Looking around she saw that there were a few hangers on, most of them leaving the Tor because of the rain. She cast a rain-repelling charm on herself before climbing back into the trench. What she saw when she got back down (that's worded wrong, erg) caused her to sit down hard in the mud. 

The rain had washed the final layer of dirt off the metal box, which was, as Ginny had believed, a sarcophagus. The rain had revealed a painting in vivid yellows, blues and reds of a woman, asleep, her arms crossed over her chest ancient Egyptian style. Clutched in one painted hand was a scroll. 

Confident that no Muggle would be unnecessarily exposed to magic, Ginny cast Wingardium Leviosa on the sarcophagus and lifted it completely out of the mud. The sides of the ornate coffin were decorated in the same colors as the top.   
Suppressing a whoop of excitement, Ginny levitated the sarcophagus to the ground above. Her heart felt like it would pound its way out of her chest any moment as she admired her find. She traced the edges of it with her fingers admiring the craftsmanship. Sarcophagi were used throughout history although they began to lose their popularity by medieval times. Despite her eagerness to pry open the wooden sarcophagus, she stepped back and pulled out a mirror from her pocket. 

Tapping the mirror lightly with her wand, she whispered "Pucey"

"What do you want, Weasley? This better be good."

"Trust me, you won't be disappointed," she said.

"You better hope you're right. I'll be over there in a minute." 

Although Ginny knew Pucey was a prat, she couldn't help but feel that maybe this discovery prove once and for all that she had more to offer than her less than fantastic coffee making abilities.

"Weasley, what have you got?"

"This, sir," she said with a grin plastered on her face. "Isn't it great?"

Suspiciously, Pucey walked over to the sarcophagus and gave Ginny a look she couldn't read as he called for help from DeWay and Bowie. 

"Why are you calling them? I can do this; I just needed to have your supervision."

Pucey gave her a glare before continuing to examine her find. Ginny sighed. Exasperated, she sat down on a large boulder and used her hands to push the muddy, rain soaked locks of hair out of her face.

The other two men appeared at the top of the hill in a matter of seconds awaiting directions.

"DeWay, get over here on this end, Bowie, grab the other," Pucey ordered.

"What are you doing?" Ginny exclaimed.

"What does it look like I'm doing, Weasley? I'm opening it up."

"No, no, no, no." Ginny began. "No, you can't do that. We need to bring it back and run tests, you can't just open it up on the site. Besides, I found it, not you."

"Watch me." Pucey glared as he whipped out his wand. He dragged his wand around the outside of the sarcophagus muttering a spell to separate the crack where the lid met the body. 

"Pull!" Pucey commanded. 

With a foreboding crack, the lid separated from the bottom. Ginny jumped up and ran over eagerly to examine the contents.

"Go over to the main dig, Weasley."

"Sir, you haven't wanted me over there all week, but now you do? I need to be here."

"I assure you, you don't."

"Well," Ginny said nervously, "I'm not going." She attempted to look determined and even crossed her arms over her chest for effect.

"Weasley, I order you to the main dig." He gave her a menacing glare. "Is that better?"

Ginny's jaw shook lightly as she tried to hold back tears. She had never taken people screaming at her well.

"Bowie, walk her over to the main dig and make sure she stays there," Pucey commanded. 

The tall, lanky man walked over to Ginny, grabbing a hold of her upper arm as he led her away.

**

Last Chapters Anagram? The Physics of Unadoring Nags = Ginny Finds A Sarcophagus!


End file.
